


Crawl

by spindlekiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Aurors, Darkish Harry, Interrogation, M/M, Ministry of Magic, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spindlekiss/pseuds/spindlekiss
Summary: 'I know you, Draco Malfoy. I know every inch of you.'Draco Malfoy is training to be an Auror. And when he graduates, he know's that he is going to be the best. The very best. Now, if only he can get this interrogation to run smoothly.





	

 

**Walk**

Draco walked down the hall. His heart was in his throat, the clack of his dragon hide boots on the smooth cobbled floor echoed loud. Almost like he could hear his pulse. Click-clack, ba-dum, ba-dum.

Head Auror Weasley was striding alongside him, shoulders set, face grim.

Draco took a deep breath, his hands itched to smooth his robes, but he knew it might be perceived as a nervous gesture, and he didn’t need anyone questioning his suitability for this case.

Weasley side-eyed him. ‘We can’t hold him, not for long. The evidence is piss-poor.’

‘But we have witnesses.’

Weasley snorted. ‘We have a witness, singular. And she barely got a sighting. The case is entirely circumstantial.’

Draco checked his watch. The hands had stopped, right on six, as he’d known they would.

‘And Smithers swears the zone is entirely tight?’

‘Yeah, Smithers knows his shit. It’s tight.’

‘Good,’ said Draco. ‘If he’s mastered wandless, and you should know, my group are convinced that he has, then this is the only way to keep him locked down.’

Weasley didn’t reply. Draco glanced at him, and something in his gut twisted. It occurred to him that he had changed since school, after all. He didn’t like to see Weasley in pain.

They reached the third security bay.

‘Weasley and Black.’ said Weasley, tone commanding.

The guy in the booth leaned out the window, and looked them up and down. ‘Here for him?’

‘Yes,’ said Weasley.

‘Shit, hey.’ said the guy. ‘Give us a tick. I’ll grab out the scanner.’

‘You’d think they hadn’t known we were coming,’ said Draco, trying not to tap his foot.

Weasley smiled, just.

The guys returned holding two long and mugglish devices. They looked almost like over-large wands. But flat, and grey.

‘That works?’ Draco asked.

‘Sure it does.’ said the guy.

‘It’s been funded by our department.’ said Weasley. ‘So it had better.’

The guy scanned Draco first. The wands emitted a steady hum as the guy ran them over his sides and front.

The guy grinned. ‘All good. Nothing unusual detected.’

‘Now me.’ said Weasley.

The guy began on Weasley. ‘I couldn’t do youse’s jobs, meself.’

‘Why’s that?’ Draco asked, raising a brow.

‘Dealing wiv some o’ them crims. Hell nuh. Wouldn’t catch me within a mile.’

‘Technically,’ said Draco. ‘You are very much within a mile. And if any of them escape, you are the first person they will come across.’

The guy laughed. ‘They aint gunna escape. Shit. You really are green. You really haven’t been down.’

‘He hasn’t,’ said Weasley. ‘But Auror Malfoy is a qualified professional. And we’ll be on the right side of the glass. There is absolutely nothing to worry about.’

The guy pursed his lips. ‘You’ll be on the right side of the glass, huh? I’d still be worried. You shoulda seen im, when they brought him in. Dead eyes, that one. I didn’t sleep well for a week. Big dead empty eyes.’

Draco didn’t shudder, though he wanted to. The guy pulled a lever, and let them through. The hall stretched out before them. Weasley looked at him, and gripped his shoulder.

‘He’s not the same.’ said Weasley. ‘Don’t make the mistake of thinking he is.’

Draco snorted. ‘I never liked him. Not like—’

Weasley looked at him sharply.

Draco sighed. ‘I never liked him. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Good.’ Weasley straightened. ‘We’re going to get something, this time. I don’t care what.’

‘We will.’

‘And Auror Black?’

‘Yes?’

‘Just off the record.’

Draco shifted. ‘Yes?’

‘Be careful.’

 

**Conversation**

They walked down a flight of stairs, and stepped down into an observation chamber. The air was stale, and dead. No magic, thought Draco. Weasley strode across the room, and began to assemble his workspace, spreading notes across the table, and preparing a recording device.

Weasley had revitalised the entire department when he’d been selected. He’d done a study of effective measures in the muggle police sector, and modelled some of their work place practices after those. And thus, the integration of technology. Few witches or wizards knew how to tamper with technology, the way they could a mind.

As Weasley liked to say. ‘You can’t memory charm a computer.’

Draco thought it was only a matter of time.

Weasley tapped the microphone. ‘Testing. Seven past seven. AM. Second of June. Two Thousand and Four. Aurors Black, Draco, and Weasley, Ronald.’

It would be Draco’s birthday in a few days. He would turn twenty four. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do this. He straightened. He’d worn some of his most professional robes. He looked cool, and unaffected. He needed to channel that. He wasn’t an amateur. Not really.

By September he would complete his training. By September, he would be a graduate of the Auror Corps. And then, he would be handling cases all the time.

‘I’ll give you a reference if you do good. Promise.’

‘Of course.’ Draco replied.

Weasley sat, and hunched over his notes. ‘You ready?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alright.’

Finally, when Draco thought he might utter right out of his skin, Weasley flicked a switch, and the curtains came up slowly, revealing a thick panel of one-way plexi-glass.

Draco knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it.

For the first time in years, he was clapping eyes on Harry Potter.

Draco stepped closer to the glass. Potter was leaning back on his chair so hard that it was balanced on it’s two back legs. His ankles were crossed, and resting on the table in front of him. The chain around his ankle looked heavy and dark. He wasn’t wearing glasses. In fact, his eyes were closed.

‘Can he see?’ Draco asked.

‘Negative.’ said Weasley. ‘We confiscated his eye-wear. And the zone is preventing him from reaching.’

‘He can reach now? That’s not on file.’

‘It’s only a suspicion. My suspicion.’ said Weasley, jaw ticking.

‘I don’t think so,’ Draco said. ‘Nothing in our data indicates that Potter could teach himself something so advanced.’

Weasley. Gruff. ‘I didn’t say he taught himself.’

Draco thought on this. ‘You think she?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You can ask.’

‘I will.’

‘Now.’

‘Yes.’

Draco gave into the impulse, and smoothed both his robes and hair, before flashing his card through the lock, and, hearing it click, stepping through. He shut it carefully. It was heavy, and shut with a clang. He turned to face Potter. Whose unseeing eyes had snapped to his.

‘Malfoy,’ said Potter.

Draco noticed that he was grinning.

‘Black, actually. You can see?’

‘Yup.’ he let the chair fall, and leaned forward. ‘Nobody else has hair that bright.’

‘Hm. How have you been?’

‘Oh, excellent. I must say, the food here is five star. You? How’s mum?’

‘In good health.’

‘Is that it?’

‘I think so. I’m here today, Mister Potter, because the auror department would like to ask you some questions.’

‘Mister Potter? You’ve grown up, Malfoy. That's incredibly mature of you.’

‘Yes. The questions?’

‘Well, I don’t know.’

Draco, at a loss for what to say, stepped forward, and pulled out a chair. Up close, he realised that the guard had been wrong, Potter’s eyes weren’t dead, they were calm. Draco couldn’t work with calm. He needed to get Potter cross. That was why they'd picked him.

Draco shuffled his sheath of papers, and began to read. ‘Question One. Are you Harry Potter?’

‘So far as I know.’

Draco glanced up. Potter was still staring at him. Green eyes bright and blood-shot.

‘Please, Mister Potter. Some co-operation?’

Potter swung his legs down from the table and stood. ‘I’d like a fag.’

‘Well, I’m not sure if that is allowed.’

‘Check then, Ron will know.’

Draco paused, and straightened his papers. ‘Right. Just a moment.’

He stepped back through the door, and into the office. Ron was glaring at him. Draco shut the door.

‘What did I say, before you went in?’

‘Be careful?’

‘Yes, be careful. Be very fucking careful. Have you lost your god-damn mind, Black. What are they teaching you in interrogation 101. Never let the perp establish power. Never.’

‘What? I didn’t!’

Weasley softened. ‘Then why are you in here, fetching his cigarettes?’

Draco blanched. ‘Shit. Shit. I’ll go back in. I’ll go back in right now. I’m cleverer than he is. It’s going to work, still.’

Weasley frowned. ‘Black. You’re clever. I won’t deny it. And maybe even cleverer than Harry. But he’s been struggling with people his whole life. He’s got more experience and he’s more guarded. Be careful, I won’t say that again.’

Draco nodded. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He was a good trainee. The best. He’d made a blunder. But that was nothing that couldn’t be solved.

He turned.

‘Wait. Wait.’

‘What is it?’

Weasley chucked him a packet of cigarettes. ‘The plan was to get him riled. But if we can’t do that, we can try to establish a rapport.’

Draco nodded firmly. And went back in.

He placed the packet on the table. ‘Here. It’s fine.’

Potter peered at him through lidded eyes. ‘Thanks, Draco.’

His blood boiled. Any other interrogation, he would’ve made them address him with respect. But that wasn’t going to work here. Establish a rapport, he repeated to himself. Establish a rapport. Not for the first time, he regretted the ban on Veritaserum.

‘So. Questions?’

‘Tut. Tut. Malfoy, you used to be suave. Why the clumsy approach?’

‘Mister Potter. I can’t make you answer my questions. I doubt anyone could make you do something you were set against. I won’t insult you with shallow manipulations. Not here. Not when it’s us.’

Potter looked up again. And Draco shifted.

‘What’s so special about us?’ Potter asked slowly.

‘I think our shared history speaks for itself.’

‘What, I pulled you out of a fire, and so you’re going to go easy on me? A life in exchange for a more convenient conversation? I’m no negotiator, Draco. But that hardly seems fair.’

He put his feet back up on the table again, and the chain clinked. Odd socks, Draco noted, one green with snitches and the other white with dirt. His trainers were ratty, and his shoelaces wren’t tied. There was a damp, unpleasant smell. Draco chose not to comment.

‘Malfoy?’

Draco looked at him then, really looked at him. Harry Potter. Golden Boy. His hair was a mess. Like he’d been running his hands through it. One inky hank hung loose over his scar, the others were licking greedily at his forehead and neck. He was still scrawny, not any bigger than he’d been at eighteen, with knobby elbows and prominent veins. His lips were pale, and cracked. Draco could see where the skin had broken. His jeans weren’t tight, his jumper was worn. Not for the first time, Draco wanted to fuck him. Coincidentally, Draco hated himself.

‘Question Two. Do you know the whereabouts of Hermione Jean Granger?’

Harry leaned back on his chair, and looked up at the ceiling with a slow smile. ‘Now there’s a question.’

‘Do you?’

‘Sure.' he breathed in. 'Is that Les Onyx?’

‘What?’

‘That you’re wearing. It’s a good scent on you.’

Draco squinted. ‘Mister Potter. If we could move on.’

‘By all means. You must be wondering how I’ve come to be such a perfume aficionado.’

‘Not really.’

‘Ron is.’

Draco could hardly argue. Even after all these years, he doubted that there were any two friends alive who’d been closer than Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. Harry Potter who’d stood and was approaching the mirror with a blank expression, the ankle chain rattled behind him. ‘I’ve been having fun. I’ve been living fancy free. There’s a string of exotic male lovers, who, for whatever reason, all favour a particular scent.’ he looked at Draco. ‘You and Juan would get along splendidly.’

Draco frowned, the Harry Potter from his memory wouldn’t have used a word like splendidly. That spoke to his connections. The spoke to class. If he were to take an educated guess, then the changes he had seen in Potter were all changes in class. Potter, to learn manipulation, and disaffectedness, and better words, had been spending time with someone very rich.

Or at least, someone who aspired to be. That doesn’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. It’s not even a sound hypothesis, there do exist, in this day and age, educated peasants, and mannered idiots.

‘I’ll say hello to her, if you like.’ Harry was saying. ‘But I’m not sure she’ll care.’

Cruel, thought Draco. Very cruel. He hadn’t quite believed Weasley before, when he said Potter had changed, but then, he’d never considered the external influences that might’ve affected his behaviour. The incident with Granger had been horrific. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that Potter might have responded to it in unexpected ways.

Suddenly, he doubted that he would ever establish a rapport. And he knew then, that it was time to try another approach.

‘Sit down, Potter.’ he ordered.

Potter whirled around to stare at him. ‘He has grown some guts. Alright, Malfoy. Let’s go.’

‘My name is Black. You will refer to me as such. Question three. Where is Hermione Jean Granger.’

‘Don’t know.’

Draco looked at him.

‘Swear to God, Malfoy. She doesn’t tell me much.’

‘Question four. Were you directly involved with the Ministerial Bombing?’

‘Is that what this is about? You think I blew up a bunch of politicians? Fuck you, and fuck Ron, if he thinks I did.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘No.’

‘To your knowledge, was Hermione Jean Granger involved with the Ministerial Bombing.’

Potter didn’t reply. He turned to the mirror and snarled. ‘You never understood her.’

‘Answer the question, Potter.’

Potter took a deep breath, before turning to Draco, he looked like deer, or a startled animal, prepared to run, or attack, or something. ‘No, Malfoy.’

‘Black.’

‘I’ll never call you that.’

‘You are not in a position to choose.’

‘Ha.’

Draco moved on, before Potter could derail the conversation again. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

‘No.’

‘Bullshit. I’ll ask you again. Do you know why you’re here.’

Harry raised a dark brow, and reached for the cigarette’s. He pulled one out, pre-rolled, and extended it towards Draco. Draco pulled the match box from his pocket, and struck a flame.

The cigarette caught, and Potter inhaled deep. He left it in his mouth, and Draco watched as it bobbed, a bright crimson sphere, caught in Potter’s lips.

‘One last time. Why are you here, Potter.’

‘Why are any of us here. That’s the question. Isn’t it just our dumb luck that we’ve been put on this planet.’

‘I’m not here to discuss philosophy, or the meaning of life with you. This is an investigation.’

‘The meaning of life! I know that. It’s simple. So perfectly simple. Malfoy. I thought you were smart.’

Draco, drawn in. ‘What’s the meaning then?’

‘Sex.’

Draco leaned back, unimpressed. ‘That’s it?’

‘You don’t think it’s enough?’

Draco chuckled, before replying, a short and sharp, ‘No. I don’t.’

‘Spoken like someone who doesn’t do it well. You don’t look like you’d do it well, no offence. All the buttoned up people are bad lovers.’

‘On the contrary, Potter. I think you’ll find that all the buttoned up people are quite good at buckling down.’

‘Was that a romantic overture? It sounded like a romantic overture. I’ve never done it with chains on before, but I’m really up for anything.’

Draco laughed. ‘Yes, I can see that.’

He decided to take a gamble, and prayed that Weasley would be with him. ‘Take off your shirt.’

Potter smirked. And took off his shirt. He was skinny as fuck all. Hairy stomach, wiry muscles, half-hearted smatter of moles across the hipbone. Several scars. Two looked fresh. He didn’t have to be psychic to know that Weasley was taking notes. Two fresh scars were more data than anyone had collected in months.

Maybe, if those scars correlated with the appropriate time periods, they’d be able to place him at the scene.

‘Pants.’ said Draco.

‘I don’t think so, Malfoy.’ Potter said. ‘I’ve been told it’s quite slutty to put out on the first date.’

Draco laughed. And watched through hooded eyes as Potter exhaled again, his chest sunk a bit, his small nipples were tight in the cool air. A steady cloud of smoke leaked from the corner of his mouth. Draco could feel his groin tightening.

‘Pants.’ he said, again.

‘Wow, alright. You’re keen. It’s a good thing I’m not shy, and Ron’s seen it all before, really.’

He unhooked his belt and let his jeans slip down. Pale thighs, peach fuzz. A few old scars. Lower. Knobby knees. Lower. Potter stepped out of his jeans, and then Draco saw it. Another fresh wound; a swollen, godawful shame, violent and violet against the white flesh of Potter’s outer shin, green and pink and blue about the edges, a technicolour globe. And a sign, Draco knew, that Potter had done battle. That was a curse bruise if ever he saw one. The normal one’s didn’t stick around so long, or go so tender.

Potter stepped out of his jeans. And Draco was struck by the sight of him, Harry Potter, Golden Boy, transformed. Skinny, warrior thing, thin and furious and half-naked in front of him. He had nothing on but his underwear and his trainers. The cigarette was wafting casually from his hand.

Draco, who didn’t like the smell, tried not to cough. There was nothing so lame as coughing on cigarette smoke. He felt like he’d regained the upper-hand. Somehow. Potter was half-naked, and he had clothes on. It was stupid, but reassuring.

‘Another question.’ he said.

‘Fine.’ said Potter.

‘Where were you, on May the thirteenth.’

‘I’ve said this before. Don’t you lot read any of the prior interviews?’

‘As a matter of fact, I must have missed that one. Answer please.’

‘I was at home.’

‘Can anyone back that up.’

‘No.’ huffed Potter. ‘When the newspapers call me reclusive they’re not lying, I like my privacy. I like being alone.’

‘And yet, minutes ago, someone told me that to you, the meaning of life was sex.’

‘Get real, Malfoy. I was being facetious.’

Big word again, thought Draco. Must learn about that.

‘So, you deny the string of lovers.’

‘No.’

‘Then?’

‘I don’t take them to my house, is all. My house is my house. Only my friends go in there.’

‘Not anymore,’ said Draco.

‘What?’

‘Don’t worry. Come here.’

Potter rolled his eyes, and came around the table. For a moment, Draco questioned the wisdom of letting him so close, when Potter had won every physical fight they’d ever had.

But no, it would be fine. Draco had grown taller since school. Potter looked malnourished. Draco had been trained by professionals in the art of physical defence, Potter was only vaguely scrappy. If it came to it, Draco knew he would win.

He could feel Weasley disproving through the glass.

‘Sit,’ said Draco, tapping the table.

Potter looked entirely bored, but did as he said, and sat on the table, facing him.

‘Now,’ Draco rested a palm on Potter’s knee.

Tomorrow, he knew, he would probably get fired. If Weasley dobbed him in to any of the higher powers, he was done. But he had a nagging suspicion that Weasley would go further than anyone to get this case solved. And catch Granger.

‘After Granger’s incident. What did you do?’

Potter’s knee began to jerk up and down. ‘I invited her to live with me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Ron was repulsed.’

‘How do you know that.’

‘He said so.’

Shit. Thought Draco. I hadn’t known that.

‘Did you hear him say that? Or is this secondhand knowledge.’

‘I heard him.’

Double shit. ‘How long did Miss Granger reside on your property.’

‘Twelve months.’

‘And then?’

‘She left.’

‘Where?’

‘South-east Asia.’

‘Why?’

‘She was looking for a cure.’

‘A cure?’

Potter looked down his nose, which was flaring like that of a race-horse. ‘You would too, Malfoy. If ninety percent of your body had been irreparably burned, and your arse-hole boyfriend decided it was too much to deal with.’

‘Right. How long did she stay away?’

‘Three or four months.’

‘Can you be more specific.’

‘No. Fuck off.’

Draco sighed, and ran his hand up Potter’s thigh. ‘Don’t swear. Did she return with anyone? Friend? Lover? Accomplice?’

Potter slapped his hand away, and grabbed hold of Draco’s chin. ‘You think she felt up to that? She was betrayed by the whole wizarding world, and then her lover. You think she was that ready to invite new people into her life? No. She came back alone, and she came back with nothing. After that, we went to live in Burnie for a bit, as apple pickers. It was quiet, and empty, and best of all, we didn’t need to deal with any ministry pricks like you or Ron.’

‘Do you know anything about the Muggleborn Resistance League?’

‘I know you lot ticked them off, big time. And really, what could you expect. We’ve just been through a war, Malfoy. And already, the whole bloody cabinet is legislating against minorities. As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved.’

‘Did Hermione Granger give him what he deserved.’

Potter’s lips were pulled back. ‘No.’

‘Next question.’ Draco put his hand back on Potter’s thigh.

Potter grabbed it, tight, and linked their fingers, before sliding down the table into Draco’s lap, and straddling him. Draco humiliated himself by growing immediately and painfully hard. Harry put his other hand around Draco’s neck, and leaned close, whispering in Draco’s ear. ‘Do you know what you remind me of?’

‘No.’ Draco glanced through the glass, alarmed. He blinked three times, that was the signal.

‘A dog.’

‘A dog?’

‘Yes, a dog. Malfoy. You’ve always been on your belly for someone. Always. It used to be your father, and his lord. And now, I can see, it’s the ministry. Look at you, with your silver buttons, and your slick hair, and your dragon-hide boots. Malfoy. I know you. I know every inch of you. I know you’d crawl for someone else, too, if you had to. I know you’ve got a girlfriend too, I saw it in the newspaper. But I bet she doesn’t do this to you.’ he let his hand rest on Draco’s crotch. ‘I bet you lie in bed next to her, panting and sweaty, and I bet you don't touch her breasts, and I bet you pretend you’re satisfied. But you’re not. You never are. I can smell it on you. Draco Black. So ready to crawl. So ready to do what is expected. Change the name, marry the girl, do the interview. Haven’t you realised yet, that it’s much harder to do what is right than what is expected?’

‘I know that.’

Harry kissed him on the lips, thrusting his tongue in and clacking teeth. Draco groaned, lifting his hips. Harry pulled back slightly, and whispered. ‘I don’t think you do.’

Draco could hear the door begin to open. Finally. Thank god for Weasel. He nearly sighed in relief, until Harry said ‘Gotcha’ and his neck began to burn. That fucking cigarette!

He shrieked. And tried to fling Potter off, his neck was burning, burning. But even though Harry was scrawny, he was strong, stronger than Draco could ever have anticipated. Weasley jumped forward to help, and Harry slid down to the ground.

Clutching his neck, Draco stumbled up, shrieking. ‘The door! The fucking door!’

Weasley turned to close it, and Draco rummaged through his pocket for the key. But it was gone. It was fucking gone. And Weasley hadn’t turned quick enough, and skinny Harry Potter had hurtled between the gap and locked it behind him. They couldn’t even press an alarm. The room was empty but for two chairs and a table.

Weasley was beating on the door with his fists.

‘Stop it,” said Draco tiredly. ‘He’s gone. How are we going to get out?’

‘We can’t.’ said Ron. ‘The door automatically locks. And we’re on the wrong side of the glass.’

‘D’you think he’s still out there.’

Ron slid to the floor, and groaned. ‘No. He’s gone. We aren’t going to see him again.’

‘Bullshit. I’ll find him.’

‘Not your case, Black.’

‘I will.’

Weasley hit the wall one more time, throwing his weight against the door. ‘That shit wouldn’t have worked for anyone else. Anyone else. How the hell did I let him past me.’

‘It’s Potter,’ Draco sighed tiredly. ‘If there was an impossible gap, he was bound to fit through it. It’s my fault, anyhow.’

‘How did he break the chain?’ Weasley asked.

Draco looked under the table. The chain was intact. ‘Dislocated his foot, I think.’

‘Should’ve known.’ said Ron. ‘Doesn’t even feel pain, that one.’

‘I didn’t see him do it.’

‘Neither. Might’ve done it before we even got here, Malfoy. I’d say he was just biding his time, until he needed to slide out of it.’

‘Is he guilty then?’

‘Must be.’

‘And Granger?’ Draco asked, looking away.

‘Must be.’

‘Hm. I'm surprised you don't know, not for sure.'

‘Don’t be. Things hadn't been good. You don’t know what it was like, after the battle. Harry was depressed as fuck. And Hermione, I was going to break up with her anyway. We weren’t working. After the attack, I just, couldn’t. The war affected me too. I needed to focus on something positive. They were just… they reminded me of horrible things.’

‘You’re allowed to look out for yourself, Weasley. You couldn’t have known.’

Weasley laughed. ‘It’s all so wrong. So wrong now. She was beautiful, before. And that guy, he just. Malfoy. Her face melted. And he just, laughed. I couldn’t look at her without feeling sick. It was sick. I couldn’t stick around.’

‘It’s difficult.’ said Draco. But Potter had managed it.

‘It’s more than difficult.’

‘I just don’t understand why they hate the ministry so much.’

Weasley sighed. ‘Hermione always has. And Harry never liked it much. But, it’s because, I...’

‘Go on, I won’t tell anyone.’

Weasley shut his eyes, and spoke in a whisper. ‘The guy who did it. He was the Minister’s son. They didn’t even give him a trial. The whole thing got hushed, and the newspapers were silent, and he got grounded. Grounded. For melting her face.’

Draco’s gut rolled. He felt sick. He’d never heard the full story before. ‘My god.’

‘You can’t tell. I’ll lose my job.’

‘That’s fucked, Weasley.’

‘I know.’

 

If Draco ever met Harry Potter again, he didn’t know what he’d do; fuck him, shake his hand, kill him, or arrest him.

He reached behind his neck, put his finger to the cigarette burn, and hissed. That was the second time he’d let Potter scar him. And it would be the last. Next time, it would be Draco who left a mark. Next time, it would be Potter, stuck in a small room with a burn and a hard-on. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thankyou very much, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> themes were a bit darker in this one, we've been learning about character driven tension at school, so I've been trying to get some practice in.


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